


After-Hours

by ShatteredSwallowtail



Series: 30 Moments of Passion [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 05:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredSwallowtail/pseuds/ShatteredSwallowtail
Summary: Oh yes. I write smut. Another collection based off of a defunct LJ community.





	After-Hours

Tapping her foot in an irritated manner, Rukia checked the watch fastened to her left wrist, a scowl breaking across her features. Idiot. The hell was he doing still here, his shift was supposed to have ended 2 hours ago. Heaving a sigh, she watched as the thin line of the second hand ticked along the numbers, feeling the irritation grow with each passing second that ticked by. It only took another 38 or so before she was pushing palm against the swinging door, skirt swishing noisily with the rush of air from the hallway as she stalked towards what she knew was likely an empty office.

_Idiot, can't he actually **come home** on time for once?_

Ducking her head inside to confirm that the office was indeed empty -- and it was, she noted with a snarl and a roll of violet eyes -- she shook her head and brushed a stray lock of black hair from her face. At least that made it easy to find him, given that there were only so many places where a tall, orange-haired man in a lab coat _could_ hide. Pushing aside another door, she let the scowl rise to her features as eyes landed on the object -- or person, rather -- of her search with a scathing disapproval.

"You're _late_. AGAIN."

Ichigo barely acknowledged her from where he stood, leaning against the table in the center of the room, nose buried in what she could only assume was some sort of medical text. Really, he read far more than she'd ever given him credit for. But then, that was what made him a good doctor, Rukia supposed. And honestly, she was proud of him for it. When he wasn't staying here late and leaving her home to starve, that is. Hands found their way to hips as the furrow in her brow deepened substantially at his continued ignoring of her.

"I _said_ you're late again. And I'm hungry."

When he dismissed her again with a simple wave of his hand and an "I know, I know.", it was time to start debating whether it would be more beneficial to shove the book down his throat or strangle him with his own tie. Either option seemed to have a good deal of merit at the moment, and the mental picture she was getting trying to decide was definitely doing something for her mood. At least a bit. Though just how long that soothing fantasy would last was going to be directly dependent on how long the moron with the tangerine-hued head stood there and pretended she didn't exist.

"ICHIGO!"

With a roll of his eyes, he lowered the book and rounded on her, irritation plain on his face. "RUKIA. I KNOW you're there, and I KNOW I'm late, so just shut up and deal with it and I'll be done in a minute."

Turning back to his book, he idly adjusted the little silver-rimmed glasses -- he hated the things, but that habit of pouring over medical texts late at night had taken it's toll. Thankfully he only needed them for reading -- and flipped the page, absorbed in some procedural abnormality or some other such thing. Rukia really didn't care. No, what she DID care about was that she was hungry. She was hungry and he wasn't doing a damn thing about it.

Fuming, she concentrated all her anger on an invisible point in the center of his forehead. Maybe if she thought about it hard enough, she could burn a hole there and see if there actually _was_ some sort of brain there. Probably not, or at least if there was one, it was full of nothing but medical terminology and other random crap. Nothing useful about _feeding your spouse_, or anything else that might prove to lengthen his current expected lifespan.

With another stifled growl and glare at the clock -- she was sure he was deliberately taking a long time with this -- she took the time to admire him. He'd grown up nicely over the last few years. 27 now, he'd been a successful doctor for about 2 or 3 years now and she had to admit he was good at it, as good as he'd been all those years ago as a shinigami. He was taller, a bit broader through the shoulders, and a tad more weathered than he'd once been, but otherwise he was still the same.

As for the weathering... well, years of studying those confusing texts would do that to you, she had to assume. She should know, it had been hard enough for _her_ when he'd had to spend a few years doing nearly nothing but studying. She'd tried to take over all of their shinigami duties again but it wasn't as though he was about to let her do that alone. Damned overprotective idiot that he was. It had been a pain in the ass but she'd stayed by him, first out of sheer loyalty, then love and the ring he'd put -- much to her astonishment -- on her left hand. She'd sat and watched and dealt with him -- she hadn't realized he could be even MORE of a pain than he already was, but he'd surprised her -- and what had she gotten out of it? The moron had gotten her _pregnant_. Only 7 weeks, but still.

Tapping her foot for another moment or so, she crossed arms over her chest with a scowl. "I'm really leaving this time..."

Brown eyes glanced up over the edge of the book, accompanied by a soft scoffing chuckle as he closed it and sauntered over to loom behind her. "No you won't."

"Yes I will, you're pissing me off." He'd better not try anything, she was most certainly _not_ in the mood for his bullshit today. She was hungry and tired and irritated.

Ichigo's smirk widened as he took another step forward, resting hands on her hips and dropping his head to press soft kisses down the side of her neck, sucking softly at the smooth skin there and relishing the way she trembled just slightly. She could never seem to help doing that, and it only served to fuel his ego more. "You're not mad. Not really."

Her being mad was a debatable thing. In all honesty, she probably _was_ mad, but that was beside the point at the moment, given that he had other things on his mind. Things that all involved one angry spouse and the fact that certain articles of clothing were growing more irritating the longer lips roamed over her throat. Fingers sliding further around her waist, one hand slid in a slow path down her hip and along her thigh to dart under the hem of her dress. That was better.

"Or at least you won't be in a minute..." It was pretty hard to hide the smirk as fingers climbed higher, feeling skin prickle beneath his caress as his hand moved higher, taking the skirt with it.

Swallowing back an involuntary gasp as his lips traced fire along her throat -- goddammit why did he always have to have that effect on her, it wasn't fair -- she meticulously fostered the scowl on her face, one hand wrapping around his arm and halting that hand's progression up her leg. Not mad? She'd show him "not mad"... "Oh yes I still am, and don't even THINK that you're getting any before you _feed me_."

It was probably a futile attempt, he could be damned persistent when he really wanted something, but she was easily as stubborn as he was and the only way he was likely to get what he wanted when _she_ wasn't in the mood -- at least... not in the mood as far as she was about to let HIM know -- was to use the simple tactic of brute strength. Which he wasn't prone to use on her, especially not since she'd dryly explained why her "stomach flu" wasn't clearing up. Really, a doctor and so clueless sometimes.

"No you're not..."

His lips worked their way down the side of her neck with a slow, leisurely pace, nipping and sucking as they found new points of interest, taking care to gauge her reactions. Damn him and his insistence on being so thorough, it was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Because while it meant that -- though she would bite off her own tongue before she knowingly fed his ego -- that she _always_ ended up quite satisfied, it also meant it was damned hard to ignore him when she was trying to.

Ignoring her arm as though it was hardly there, his hand continued it's upward motion, gliding across her thigh and curling around to the inside of her leg, gentle fingers tracing softly against skin. He hadn't missed the way her breathing caught, the way she swallowed momentarily before launching into another protest about how she was hungry and he'd better stop now before she got _really_ mad and resorted to kidou and then he'd have to explain why his exam room was wrecked.

"Stop trying to pretend you're mad.... it's not working."

Her indignant retort was cut off in a sharp gasp and a faint moan as one finger slid over the front of her panties, pressing just hard enough to trace over her contours as teeth bit down on the juncture of neck and shoulders. Oh damn. He'd even gone so far as to use _that_, the cheating bastard. It was so unfair, knowing as he did how sensitive the side of her neck was. But that was hardly much of a thought in her mind as she bit back an involuntary moan, head dropping easily to the side to give him better access. Asshole. She'd yell at him later. But... not right now.

Ichigo bit back a wry chuckle as he felt her finally start to relax against him, tension abandoning her frame, leaving behind supple curves and soft skin. Sliding his free hand up, he went to work on the buttons on the front of her shirt, popping them open one at a time to tug the neck of her shirt sideways and reveal even more pale flesh to his eyes, lips following the trail his eyes traveled. Biting down again, a little softer this time, he trailed fingers down the side of her neck and across her collarbone, dragging nails so gently against skin to make gooseflesh pimple beneath his touch as fingertips glided softly over contours and the roughened pad of his thumb found it's way to her nipple, pressing itself over the erect bud and sliding in a gentle rolling motion as it stiffened even more.

It was completely unfair how he could remove all of her protesting when he got her like this -- damned hormones, it must have been their fault -- but she wasn't really concentrating too hard on that as his palm cupped itself over her breast with a gentle squeeze, thumb still toying with her nipple as his index finger pressed slightly harder, gentle and even strokes against the dampening fabric of her panties serving as yet another distraction from her being mad at him.

Maybe it was a little unfair, but then it wasn't as though he didn't know she could easily turn the tables and reduce him to a melted puddle on the floor if she'd really wanted to. Even when he got the best of her like this, he knew perfectly well that he was only dominant because she wanted him to be, because she had momentarily capitulated to her own whims and his desires and that when it came down to it, it would be _she_ in control. Supressing a chuckle as mouth continued it's downward motion to her shoulder, he slid fingers aside just enough to push under the edge of the thin material that seperated them from her and rubbed a fingertip over her clit, dipping down to slide it along her moist center before curling back up to circle that sensitive bud of nerves.

It earned him a moan from Rukia, and a shudder passing through her frame as he kissed his way to the point of her shoulder, thumb replacing finger with it's soft pressure against her as one finger pressed it's way over slick skin, parting folds to push into her with an even motion. His lips trailed back up the side of her neck, biting harder, sucking and kissing their way over skin he was relatively sure would be bruised later -- not that she minded, protests to the contrary -- as he added a second finger, scissoring them slightly and pumping them in and out at an even pace.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the table as he pushed fingers into her, biting back a hissing moan as he pushed them in, pulling back and curling digits to brush against that one spot he'd worked so diligently to find their first time. She'd have to thank him for that, later, when she wasn't otherwise occupied with supporting her weight against him and using the last little bit of control she had just to keep her legs from buckling. Maybe it was a fringe benefit of the fact that she was just so much _smaller_ than he was, but it didn't really matter as fingers pushed so deep into her, sending chills down her spine and moans spiraling up from her throat.

Swallowing hard, she bit back another whimper, murmering his name as her head lolled back against his shoulder. "I...Ichigo....."

That was what he'd been waiting for, and he leaned in to run his tongue along the shell of her ear before teeth closed gently over skin and he was chuckling with his breath wafting against her throat. He didn't have to say anything, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Pulling fingers from inside her, he ran his tongue along them, tasting her with a low groan before roughly spinning her around to face him. In a matter of moments, he'd lifted her up to sit on the exam table, yanking off the thin scrap of wet cotton that was proving to be the only barrier between them and shoved his own pants down his hips.

Molding mouth over hers with a harsh abandon, he slid hands down her back to grip her backside and pull her against him, lifting and angling her hips to thrust into her in one smooth stroke, reveling in the way she moaned into his mouth. Tearing lips from hers, he trailed them down her throat again, nipping and biting as fingers tightened on her hips and drew her to him, burying himself as deep as he could in her tight, wet heat with a moan.

Nails gripping his shoulders, it was hard to help the way her back arched and her breath caught as he entered her, as rough and intense as always, regardless of how careful he may have been at the start. It was always this way, as though Ichigo held on for as long as he could until he just couldn't stand it anymore and then there was the intensity, the driving, pulsing need to have her for his own. And she loved it, loved the way he moaned in her ear, the way he attacked her neck and shoulders with teeth and tongue and lips, the way he thrust into her harder and faster with every moan that broke from her throat, every wordless encouragement she gave him.

Arching her neck back as his lips trailed firey kisses up it, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, pulling him further into herself with a low groan of his name, tightening her grip on his shoulders until she could feel nails pricking through the fabric of his shirt. Every thrust, harder and faster than the last, shook a cry from her throat, sensations coiling and overpowering as his mouth trailed down her shoulder to her chest, tongue licking over heated skin and swirling around a nipple as he pulled the stiff peak into his mouth, breath coming in pants as he drove into her harder, fingers gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

Rukia rolled her hips against his, meeting his thrusts halfway, feeling the tension pooling, coiling low in her belly. Little yelping whimpers increasing in pitch, she could feel herself shudder as he bit down on her nipple, thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he drew closer to that end as well, determined to send her crashing over it before he did. It was almost like a game with them, to see who could hang on the longest, but not today. One hand left the cradle of her hips and slid up and over her stomach and then down between them, thumb and forefinger working little circles over her clit and she felt herself lose control, the spring snapping and exploding as she bit back a scream of his name, muscles tensing and clenching around him in a spasm. She could feel him follow her, feel the way his frame stiffened, the way he thrust into her as far as he could, muffling a groan of her name into her shoulder as he continued moving, riding out his own orgasm and sending tremors of sensation rumbling through her frame.

Shaking, she simply sagged against him, nails still dug into shoulders, breath coming in short pants against the sweat-damp skin of his shoulder. Ichigo wrapped arms around her torso, burying his face in her shoulder, one hand sliding up the back of her neck to tangle in black hair in a shaky caress. It was a long moment before either of them moved, before he pulled back to brush black hair from her face with a gentle smile that soon turned into the smirk she recognized so well.

"See? Told you you weren't mad at me."


End file.
